Hot Summer's Night
by DC Luder
Summary: During NML, he saved her from certain death and she thanked him with a concussion and a hasty exit. Eight months later, she's found a way to make amends. Sequel to Cold Winter's Night.
1. Chapter 1: Blue Diamond Fever

Title: Hot Summer's Night: Blue Diamond Fever

Author: DC Luder

Summary: During NML, he saved her from certain death and she thanked him with a concussion and a hasty exit. Eight months later, she's found a way to make amends. Sequel to Cold Winter's Night.

Rating: T for violence and mild adult themes

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: My sincerest apologies for once again falling off of the face of the Earth. While I catch up on the Series of Three, I humbly offer this to you.

A/N 2: References made to Catwoman Volume 2 #72 and assorted NML fun.

^V^

"Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it."

Russell Baker

^V^

The first of August was the start of Gotham City's eighth month as a shining new city.

As a result of the year of erosion known as No Man's Land, the metropolis had all but vanished beneath earthquake rubble and the aftermath of endless gang activity. After realizing their error, the government had welcomed us back to civilization with open, and relatively forced, arms. Billions of dollars worth of materials and thousands of construction workers had been brought in from private and federal sources to resurrect Gotham's corpse. It had seemed impossible, but within a few months, the skyline towered over freshly paved streets, the MTA train systems were put back together and civilization brought the pulse back to the streets I had always loved.

Having lived in Gotham before, during and after the earthquake, it had still been an adjustment to seeing its sleeker self. The new skyscrapers had worked their way up to the heavens once more, although with more modern designs and features. The streets and avenues had been revitalized with black pavement and sharp contrasting markers, signs and crosswalks. The parks that had been ruptured and overgrown were treated with loving and detailed landscaping. Everything starting over, starting anew.

Every day, it seemed as if life was in fast forward, racing along back to normalcy.

However, Gotham wasn't Gotham without a dark cloud looming over it.

When No Man's Land had been declared, rather than transporting the hundreds of Arkham inmates to neighboring facilities, the guards had unlocked the doors before abandoning their posts. The time Gotham had spent on her own and cut off from civilization had been bad enough, let alone the added chaos of the criminally insane running free. The struggle to simply survive had put some of their heinous efforts at bay, but it hadn't taken long for hostages to turn to body counts.

My kind of crime had always been of the pillage variety, not the stabbing, filleting and killing kind.

By the time the city was reunited with the United States, the interim police force and masked vigilantes had managed to put away most of the heavy hitters and second class inmates. Even still, unspeakable acts had occurred and gone unpunished, innocents turned guilty, all for the gain of power and the need to survive. A few of the nobodies had hightailed it out of the city at first chance, some had no doubt perished amidst the gang violence or rampant disease and starvation. Whoever had remained had gone into hiding, waiting for the opportune moment to pluck the ripest fruit.

Not that I wasn't doing the same thing.

There had been a silver lining in the dark cloud…

When things had taken a turn for the worse following the earthquake, I had made my decision and left Gotham. It hadn't been the first time I had turned my back on the city I loved, but it had still been painful. Taking my most valuable belongings and my collection of passports with me, I had found myself a new home in Manhattan. I had spent my days perusing museums, sampling fine cuisine and preparing to get back to "work". Granted, the Big Apple was no Gotham, but it was about as close I was going to get.

All it really lacked was that something special. A tall, dark and handsome something dressed like a bat…

I had nearly put Gotham behind me when I had made a curious find while trying to steal an emerald the size of my fist. Regrettably, the gem had been a fake, turning out to be a device activated upon my attempted theft. My mouth had gaped when it delivered a message in the computerized tone of Oracle, "The Boss needs you to meet him in Gotham. You should be at Robinson Central Station's main lobby in twelve hours. If you don't show it will be assumed that you couldn't get in."

In the midst of his battles in the wreckage of Gotham, he had managed to track me down, had planted a fake gem that he knew I would go after and then had brazenly commanded for me to return. I would not have believed it to be possible, but there it had sat, securely in its display waiting for me. It had been fruitless to dwell on the matter for any significant amount of time as he was the world's greatest detective, there was no hiding from him.

He knew everything. He knew me. And he knew I would be unable to resist such a boldly placed challenge.

The challenge he had left for me had started an itch. The itch had evolved into an undeniable urge to sneak up on him in the middle of No Man's Land. That urge had turned into an burning desire to clock him in his square jaw for ruining my fun, for making me follow his order and for tugging at my ego.

Given that I had been enjoying my little place in Manhattan, I had not taken any thought to chart out my inevitable return to Gotham. There had been all of the time in the world to do so, especially since at the time No Man's Land seemed to be delaying any hopes of rebuilding. But with a twelve hour deadline, there had not been a moment to spare for coming up with a plan, let along putting it into action.

Damn him.

The flight to the Gotham County airport, the only surviving air strip after the earthquake, had been in the luxury of first class. Even still, I had been edgy and tense despite the complimentary champagne and plush leather seats. A flight attendant had asked if I was all right but I had warded him off by claiming to be a nervous flier. He had reassured me with a warm smile that we would safely land and that he would be nearby if I had needed anything. I should have asked him if he would have been willing to help me avoid land and water mines while crossing the Gotham River but I had held my tongue.

Once on the ground, I had collected my baggage, locked up some of my belongings in a locker and then rented a car under the name Ivana Katz. It hadn't been long after that I was racing up the interstate, closing in on Gotham City. The tension had grown to a relatively unbearable level, causing me to switch radio stations sporadically while speeding down the left lane without mercy. For those fifteen minutes, my mind had been solely focused on all that could go right and wrong while breaking into No Man's Land. It had been as I entered the former city limits that the rational mind gave in to memories, signaled just as the city skyline was no where in view.

A year earlier, Wayne, Hart and Citibank Towers would have been competing with one another to reach the clouds. The bridges would have been bustling with traffic, angry honks from commuters, dump trucks and taxis alike. Train cars packed full would have been leaving and entering the city on an endless loop. During the day, the city would have been cast in a slight haze, at night basked in an electric glow.

It had been dusk. And there had been nothing.

The interstate had offered detours back towards civilization, with all exits towards Gotham cut off with cement barricades topped with razor wire. It had taken an additional forty minutes to work my way through detours, turnarounds and backed up exits before I had made it to my destination. Namely, the on-ramp for what had once been the Westward Bridge.

With no human eyes even remotely nearby, I had changed into my guise, the suit greeting me like an old friend. With the added degree of difficulty, I had brought along a waterproof backpack of climbing gear, basic medical kit along with dehydrated food and water sterilizing tablets. Even though survivors had carried on during my absence, I had doubted they would be willing to share their limited supplies with a little old cat thief.

Regrettably, the safest way in had been through the river. A river marked with mines, bodies that had long since passed the stage of being a floater and of course decades of pollution. Outfitted with flippers, goggles and an oxygen re-breather, I had jumped into the murky abyss. The smell itself had been enough cause me to gag, but I had put my frustration to practical use, keen on doing anything to beat his challenge of meeting him within twelve hours.

Crawl stroking through liquid hell just to wipe that half-smirk off of his face with my claws…

Reaching the other side, I had enjoyed a momentary break sitting atop of a vacant and disabled dump truck. In the twenty minutes I had spent catching my breath, I had studied the barren patch of street and tattered buildings that had previously made up the Hudson Circle. Once upon a time, it had been known as "Hell's Circle" given its infamous traffic nightmares any given hour of the day. The only sign of life I had bore witness to was a pair of pigeons fighting over some miniscule bit of garbage.

The victor took to the skies, leaving the loser alone on the barren street.

I had made it into Gotham in one piece, smelly and disgusting, but intact. Next on the agenda had been to try to get to Robinson Central Station without falling prey to the terrain or what lurked in its crevices. Coming back to the city had naturally roused ancient memories, both good and bad. Seeing my home in ruin had been all too painful to bare initially, forcing me to emotionally vacate long before physically leaving it all behind.

My favorite perches were no longer in existence, the diamond district was buried beneath hundreds of tons of collapsed buildings and the eerie silence was as unnerving as the lack of activity. Darkness had always been a comfortable cloak but I had fond myself welcoming the daylight, even if my guise had me sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb.

Making my way to Robinson Central had proven to be more difficult than navigating the river of a million horrors. The news had reported on how the gangs were practically feral, fervently protecting heir territories with a battery of weaponry that had seemed to be medieval compared to the semi-automatics that had once empowered the criminals of Gotham. I had no interest in proving the media right or wrong and simply focused on moving quickly and quietly.

Thankfully, the only turf war I had come across had been the birds.

After ten and a half hours of living hell, I had finally stepped into the former crossties of Gotham, the building as silent as an empty church. As expected, he had been ready and waiting, wasting no time in getting to the point. I had used my anger at his challenge to fuel my efforts, but upon finally seeing him inn the flesh, it had all but dissipated. He had looked haggard, jaw dark with stubble, eyes painfully tired, even beneath the cowl's lenses. I had listened intently as he said he needed me to steal information that would be vital to saving Gotham.

Curiosity damned, I had asked, "Why not get them yourself?"

My anger had returned tenfold when he had replied, "They're in Manhattan."

I had laughed for a moment before immediately lunging at him, vowing to kill him for making me fight my way back into Gotham only to have to do it all over again. While evading my assaults, he had defended his actions, claiming that he had been unable to risk anyone learning about the discs he had needed and that he had wanted to be sure that I had been capable of getting through the barricades.

Still enraged, I had lashed out at him with the whip, shocked when he held his arm out to be ensnared by the tail, grabbing on and dragging me to him. What had been even more surprising had been when he had gripped me by the forearms, saying that he needed me before leaning forward and kissing me.

I had never been able to stay mad at him for long.

Deciding to be a good girl, I had played along. I had left Gotham mere hours after arriving, booked a hotel room near the airport simply to shower off the sludge and then found the next flight back to JFK. It had been my only mission in life, obtaining the information he had asked for, something he had only asked of me.

And then, like a good little kitty, I had returned home, back through the barricades, the murky river, and the tattered streets. Upon delivering the discs, I had told Batman that I intended to make the most out of returning to Gotham. He had in turn promised to hunt me down if he caught me stealing anything. There had been the most minute playful hint to his voice, something that had me grinning while walking out on him.

Even with Gotham in ruins, there had been the promise of some fun.

Unfortunately, it had not come to pass as expected. He had been entirely too busy fighting the gangs, battling with the Arkham inmates and even with the former GCPD to play a game of Bat and Cat. I had treated myself to a few gems that I had been able to unearth from the rubble in the museums, but most everything of true value had been destroyed or not worth risking life and limb crawling through unstable debris. In fact, the next time I had actually spent time with him had been the night we had both jumped into an icy reservoir to save two young women from drowning.

I had joked, while nearly succumbing to severe hypothermia, that being good never paid as well as being bad.

Despite the fact that he had been nearly as frigid as I had been, Batman had managed to carry me to one of his bunkers, bringing life back to my body with warm IV fluids and thermal blankets. He had tended to me before worrying about his own health, cranking the heat in the cramped quarters before disrobing and crawling into the narrow bed, rubbing my arms and legs to bring me out of near lethal shock. Most of the night had been a painful blur, but I had a distinct recollection of falling asleep in his arms.

Upon waking in utter darkness hours later, I had taken advantage of the situation, using our nude states and lowered inhibitions to seduce him. It had been an opportunity that would have never presented itself again, something I had dreamt of for years and yet something I had never thought of actually coming true. We had teased and taunted one another for so long, a physically and painfully tense courtship that had never climaxed.

That was until that cold winter's night.

Although I had wanted nothing more than to stay with him in those pre-dawn hours, I had bailed. I had taken advantage of his post-coitus reduced defenses to render him unconscious, slamming his brow directly into the metal frame of the bed. I had taken a moment to check his vitals and position him so that he wouldn't fall onto the floor. Still in the dark, I had collected the damp remnants of my costume and donned them hastily. With a pillowcase in hand, I had felt my way over to the small storage shelf, taking all of the bottled water and food rations along with the medical supplies.

Before leaving, I had returned bedside and kissed his cheek, "Thanks for everything, stud."

I had also scrawled a message on the frost covered door, telling him that next time I would bring my whip if he brought the cuffs. An apology of sorts.

For what little had remained of No Man's Land, I had managed to avoid him. Again, he had bigger problems to worry about, like the Joker kidnapping babies, cops killing other cops and Lex Luthor trying to claim Gotham for his own. Revenge for a little theft and mild head trauma had no room on his busy schedule of saving every life he could.

But that was all in the past.

Gotham was well on her way back to her new-old self. The streets were alive with actual people and not with leery-eyed ghosts of the human race. Lights, horn honks and the chatter of trains on tracks brought the feel of the city as much as the new buildings. With one of my former penthouses having been in a building owned by Wayne's real estate holdings, I wasn't in a government sub-leased condo. I spent Gotham's first year back in civilization doing most of the repairs myself, finally seeking out a contractor to get the electricity to work in the left side of my home.

But I was home.

I was even more at home when August first came to pass, marking the grand re-opening of the Museum of Natural History. The loss of priceless exhibits had countless of personal collectors and other facilities offering items on loan. Given my nature, I loathed the animal displays and dinosaurs were of no interest to me. However, the mineral science exhibit had caught my interest, especially after I learned that the Blue Diamond necklace was going to be on display for the month of August.

Nine rare blue diamonds that clocked out at nearly six carats were fixed in to a necklace made up of two hundred and forty-three colorless diamonds. It had been crafted as a "consolation" gift from the South African diamond magnate Thomas Cullinan to his wife. He had promised to find her the largest diamond in the world, but when he had unearthed the over three-thousand carat Cullinan Diamond at the turn of the last century, he had given it to England's King Edward VII.

As an apology, he had devised the Blue Diamond necklace and given it to her.

After both had passed, it had gone from one family member to another before finally finding its way to the National Gem Gallery, which had donated ten exhibits to the Natural History Museum's Mineralogy wing. I had helped myself to a few treasures during No Man's Land, but it had been some time since I had actually put my skills to the test. And with twenty-five million dollars worth of shiny sitting in a display case, I simply couldn't resist.

With all of the modifications put into the reconstruction of the museum, I was forced to alter my typical approach. Simple motion sensors had been upgraded to pressure detectors on the floors, doors and windows. Ventilation systems were now outfitted with audio monitoring microphones, eager to pick up the sound of someone moving through on their hands and knees. Even though the exhibits themselves were cushioned by juicy insurance policies, each display had visual and thermographic cameras studying them and their surroundings, along with armed guards.

I attended the opening gala, decked out in my own diamond necklace and low-dipping black Vera Wang gown. The guards on duty for the event were scheduled to remain overnight, keeping the millions of dollars worth of gems safe from the likes of me. I chatted up each of them, learning that all four were formerly from Blackgate, taking on better paying and less dangerous work at their wives' requests.

Despite their obedience, each treated themselves to a gander down my cleavage.

I allowed it, as it left them oblivious to the fact that it allowed me to place trackers on all of them.

Rather than backtrack home only to return to the museum, I lingered late at the gathering, acting tipsy and causing two of the guards to squabble over who would call me a cab. Reggie won over Thomas, more than happy to guide me to the main entrance, promising to help me get home safe. Halfway there, I grabbed him by the tie, latched my lips onto his and forced him to back-peddle into the woman's bathroom. Even for a former Blackgate guard, he was easily caught off guard and unable to regroup before my next onslaught.

Namely a tranquilizer to his awfully firm buttocks.

When he collapsed to the white tiled floor, I bent over and retrieved the tracer from his lapel, "Nighty night, Reggie."

Dragging him into an empty stall, I used his own cuffs to secure him to the toilet, even though I would be long gone with the necklace before he came to. Upon arriving earlier that evening, I had hid my gear bag in the empty garbage can of the stall marked Out of Service. While the handsome guard snored softly, I retrieved the bag and shut the door in order to conceal his limp form. I changed quickly from the gown to my leggings, boots and fitted tunic, letting my handheld warm up and zero in on the remaining three guards.

Cowl in place, I packed my previous wardrobe in the small gear bag before securing it around my shoulders.

Before leaving, I glanced at myself in the mirror and smiled.

It was going to be a good night.

^V^

Next: Don't Be Gentle


	2. Chapter 2: Don't Be Gentle

Title: Hot Summer's Night: Don't Be Gentle

Author: DC Luder

Summary: During NML, he saved her from certain death and she thanked him with a concussion and a hasty exit. Eight months later, she's found a way to make amends. Sequel to Cold Winter's Night.

Rating: T for violence and mild adult themes

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: If only I could write this much on a regular basis…

^V^

"Summer has set in with its usual severity."

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

^V^

Immediately to the right of the woman's bathroom was a service hallway.

It was installed to allow for emergency response to situations in the building without having to fight through the visitors and tourists. Access was granted to only those yielding the correct ID cards and a digital code that had to be entered on a keypad. According the schematics I had managed to snag a copy of, there were only a handful of security cameras, each of them located at exits to get a visual of who was entering or leaving the corridor.

The corridor also provided a quiet, secure channel for me to get back to my necklace in a timely manner.

The guard I had taken out in the bathroom had thankfully been forgetful type. When I had picked his pocket earlier in the evening, I had swiped his card and the scrap of paper he had his pin number. His chicken scratch had revealed a ten digit code, something that would have taken me far too much time to bypass had I been without it. Time I did not have.

A swipe of the card and a press of a few buttons later, the door's locks retreated audibly, bringing a smile to my lips. Before entering, I cracked it open just enough to sneak a mirror-bearing hand through. The cameras monitoring the entrances were predictably placed, as obvious as if it had been a supermarket check out line or bank lobby. I exchanged the mirror for a bolo, stepping back as I opened the door to hide my figure. A few rounds of momentum and I launched it, waiting for the sound of plastic snapping and falling to the ground.

In the clear, I entered safely before taking to a light jog, unearthing my handheld from the belt around my waist to locate the three remaining amigos. The display showed that each were slowly touring the main exhibit hall of the mineral science wing, conveniently in separate sections. The first on my list was at the small water fountain, comprised solely of shaped marble spheres. It was a beautiful piece, situated at the main entrance. Earlier in the evening, I had spotted a pair of young socialites kissing in front of it.

Silently, I emerged from the emergency corridor at essentially the perfect moment. The guard, who turned out to be the stoic-faced Martin, had picked the very wrong time to peer into the fountain at the change littering its basin. I crept up behind him, my eyes locked in on the base of his skull. When I was within two feet, I reached out and picked off the tracer from his shoulder, causing him to look up and around.

By then it was already too late. In one move, I shifted in front of him, bringing my elbow hard up to his square chin and sending him flying to the floor. I spared him from knocking the back of his head on the fountain base by grabbing onto his right arm and catching him at the last second. Before letting go, I plunged the pre-set tranq into his meaty neck and proceeded to drag him safely to the emergency corridor.

Two down, two to go.

Their signals put them relatively close to one another and as I moved further into the exhibit hall, I heard their voices echoing back and forth. Rather than continue on foot, I opted to make the effort to climb to the upper ledge that framed the tops of the walls. It would put me out of their sight and away from the camera lenses. The ledge was narrow, no more than eight inches, but it was worth the tight-quartered shimmying. And the cobwebs to the face.

By the time I made it to the Blue Diamond display, the two had joined forces. I heard them joking about the city's finest citizens that they had studied over the last few hours and how excited they were for their overtime pay. Tom remarked that his son was turning sixteen the following week and he planned on taking him upstate for a weekend before school started. The fourth guard, Milo, remarked that he was better off spending the extra part of his paycheck on back to school clothes.

They were close enough to allow me to jump from above, knocking them both out with minimal effort.

Save from battling with the sensors, it was going to be like taking candy from a baby.

"Nah, he's got enough clothes piled around his room, he wants something different to wear, he can do some laundry."

Before Milo could remark, and before I could strike, the power gave out and left us in complete darkness. One grumbled under his breath while the other asked how long it took for the back up generators to kick on. They muttered back and forth, their language taking a foul turn as I switched to night lenses. I found them standing side by side, calling in on their walkie-talkies to report the power failure before reaching for their flashlights. As the beams of light pierced the dark, I began to prepare to scare the living daylights of two grown men.

That was until the entire exterior wall blew inwards in a rain of ice, mortar and dust.

The debris struck them down painfully, leaving one buried under rubble while the other was thrown back hard against a granite display case. Holding my breath, I watched on as a dim blue light appeared, followed by the unforgettable sight of Victor Fries. His suit kept his core temperature at freezing, preserving his life following a freak accident in his cryogenics lab. The incident had not only left his body cold, but his heart as well. Even with our encounters on the nonexistent side, knowing that despite my skills, I was no match for a man in a hydraulic powered suit.

But I wasn't about to waste my evening and go home empty handed.

After a deep breath, I dropped down into his view, foolishly choosing to stand between him and the Blue Diamond necklace. Even worse, I opened my mouth, "Well, if I had known you were going to do all of the breaking, I wouldn't have wasted my time with breaking and entering."

Instinctively, he had aimed his gun at me, causing my heart to skip a few beats. I found oxygen reuniting with my lungs when he lowered its barrel and chose to simply glower down at me. Had he been a normal man, he still would have been intimidating. I believe his APB report listed him at a natural six-five and two-hundred and thirty pounds. The suit added five inches and another hundred easily to his frame. But it all came down to his eyes, hidden behind goggles yet still able to send a chill down my spine.

Somehow, I managed to keep my nerve and took a step towards him, "Fancy meeting you here. Thought you would have skipped town long before summer hit."

His voice was an unfeeling monotone, "I did not come here to socialize."

"Curiosity and all, can I ask why you did come?" I pursued, mentally preparing myself to flee at any given moment.

"The necklace," his eyes shifted under the red goggles, "It is worth twenty-million dollars."

"Twenty-five, Victor…" I cooed, "And I would be more than happy to share it with you, fifty-fifty. I bet I could even fence it for an even thirty-."

"No."

I never tolerated being cheated. I was not one to share, nor one to be bested.

Apparently, Victor Fries and I had a lot in common.

With the cops surely on their way, I felt myself growing desperate, not only in escaping with the diamonds but with my life, "Listen, technically, I was here first…"

"Of which is no consequence to me," he proceeded to walk by me, his heavy footsteps adding to the uneasiness in my gut.

As Fries smashed his gloved fist into the glass display case, the pieces fell to the ground, glittering in the blue light emitted by his suit. In the fraction of a minute he took to shake his hand clean, I threw my fate to what remained of my nine lives. After three long strides, I used a bench as pommel, lofting myself up and over his head, grabbing the necklace and hoping I had enough momentum left to make it to the next display case.

He was big and powerful in his suit, but he was slow. And unlike me, he could not turn on a dime.

Fries instantly rose his gun, firing in my general direction as he bellowed indecipherably. Even as I dodged and darted, I still felt the air turn dangerously cold around me. When he decided that a direct hit was ineffective, he started aiming in front of me. I tried to jump up on top of a glass case exhibiting natural rubies, which would have put me in reach of a vent. Without warning, he fired one clean blast, causing my foothold to crumble beneath me.

Out of preservation, I tossed the necklace and grabbed a hold of a wall mounted drape, slowing my ungraceful fall. Somehow, I managed to land on my feet, crouching to absorb the blow, but I was cornered. Up, left, right, everywhere I looked was covered in thick ice and Fries was fast approaching.

With his slow reaction time, I raced towards him and then dove in between his legs to get behind him safely. Unable to stop, I had to dig my claws into the ice, ripping one off in the process. As I fought my way to my feet, a sudden pain registered in my right foot and I looked back in terror to see he had pinned me down with another finely tuned shot.

In his voice, Fries growled as he stomped closer, "You are wasting my time…"

While I viciously kicked at the ice that cemented my foot to the ground, he realized that I no longer had the necklace in my grasp and demanded to know where it was. Continuing with my suicidal streak, I replied, "What's the matter Victor, you don't want to play I Spy?"

He aimed the gun directly at my face before answering, "No, I do not."

I was uncertain as to if my lips were trembling from the cold or fear, but I was tempted to bite down on them and close my eyes to prepare for the next time he pulled the trigger.

No life flashing before my eyes.

No regrets.

Instead of the sound of my flesh being flash-frozen, I was surprised to hear the familiar sound of thick-soled boots crunching on stone. Peering beyond my maker, I spotted a dark silhouette, showing not an ounce of hesitation or fear as he drew a weapon from his utility belt. I bet even the monster looming over me felt the hair standing up on the back of his neck when the gravelly voice sounded, "Stand down, Victor."

Fries turned slowly, "I think not, Batman."

The glowing light from the mad man's suit cast an eerie shadow over the cowled face before us. Even in my panicked state, I was able to see his brow lower, his eyes narrow. He waited until Fries had turned to face him before throwing what was hidden in his hand. Something that was fast and dark as it moved through the air. Something that did not hit Victor Fries.

Instead, the small black orb embedded into the block of ice formerly known as my right foot, instantly casting off warm waves of infrared heat. My kicking had chipped at the ice but the tiny black nub had a much more potent effect. The fraction of a second he held as an advantage and Batman had spent it on freeing me, giving Fries the moment of opportunity to draw his weapon up and fire.

As I told him once before, it never paid well to be the hero.

Still stuck in place, I split my attention between the ice melting around my lower leg and the battle that was taking place mere feet away. With one eye watching the device burrow as it radiated heat, the other was fixed on Batman as he dove and ducked at just the right moments, hitting Fries with devices much like the one saving my toes. The only difference was that they stuck to the suit like magnets, heating the cooling cells and forcing its owner into a furious rage.

I was so consumed with the brawl that it took a few seconds for me to realize that my foot was free. Free to grab the necklace, free to disappear into the night and free to let the police clean things up when they arrived. Ideally, it is what I should have done.

Instead, I prepped a large bolo, aimed it at Fries and released, storming forward when the cable sank home and wrapped tightly around his armor plated torso. Arms pinned to his chest, Fries still held fast to the gun, but lost his balance, crashing head first it a metal frame that had been showcasing quartz. It wasn't much, but it gave Batman a moment to regroup, which he wasted once again by gripping my upper arm and growling, "Go, now."

It wasn't an order, it was a plea.

I had not been within a hundred yards of him since that night in his bunker.

The last time he had held my arms like that it had been of an entirely different manner.

"Don't be gentle with him," I winked before taking off, heading for the safety of the outside world.

My feet took me to the service parking area just outside the entrance Fries had made. I paused at sight of the still running van that I presumed belonged to Fries. Not about to take off with incriminating transportation, I ran by, my strides growing slower rather than faster. It wasn't long before I stopped completely, mere feet from the fire escape that would lead me to safety.

It wasn't that I had left the necklace laying on the floor or that I had not been able to clean up all of my tracers.

It wasn't even the fact that my foot was still a throbbing icicle and my left should had seen better days.

It was the thought of him saving my distressed, damsel ass. Again.

Racing back to the museum, I told myself that I refused to leave him simply because I wasn't going to tolerate being told what to do. That, ad it would be sweet revenge to save him, for once. It became a mantra in my head, coming in the same pace as my pulse and footfalls, joining forces to drown out the thoughts that I was going back just for him.

Fries had long since broken from his bonds, forgoing his trusty weapon and taking to simply using brute force. I peered around the crumbled remains of the wall just in time to see him deflect a rear assault from Batman, using the momentum of the strike to fling him across the room effortlessly. Cringing when he fell hard, I forced myself to wait before putting my head out again.

Batman jumped back to his feet, seemingly unharmed and undeterred. He released another onslaught of the infrared devices, each of them landing solidly on target. A quick glance put at least a dozen of them working on overheating Fries, no doubt their combined efforts working to bring him to a debilitated state. After a failed attempt at brushing the devices away, Fries proceeded forward while raising his gun once more, "Your efforts are futile. You can not defeat me."

"That's what you think," Batman growled back as he reached beneath his cape.

Suddenly, the heaters on Fries glowed brighter, causing him to scream in agony. He stumbled forward, reared his head back and then began to fall, firing his gun haphazardly. Shards flew in every direction as he fought to stay upright, shattering displays, bringing down light fixtures and eventually finding warm, soft flesh.

"No," I gasped, watching in disbelief as Batman took a solid hit to the chest, the liquid ice rapidly hardening as it surrounded his torso, neck and head. I bolted, even with the faint sound of sirens approaching, trying to reach out for him as I had minutes earlier to the security guard. Although I arrived in time to latch onto his cape, his weight and the ice left the material ripping in my hands.

He crashed hard into the marble floor, some of the ice chipping away but unlike the awful image that had been in my mind, his body remained intact. I immediately felt for the utility belt, looking for access to the magical pouch that had been depending on. I fought back countless old memories of teasing him with one hand while snatching something from his belt. Whenever I had wanted a head start, I would steal his grapple and toss it over the edge of a rooftop, forcing him to try to catch me without cheating. Always a fun way to start an evening…

I had to roll him onto his side, an ordeal in itself, but I managed to snatch the last five.

One had taken a few minutes to free my foot.

Looking over his motionless figure, it wasn't hard to tell that five wasn't going to cut it.. Nevertheless, I placed them over his folded arms and the last above his face, somewhat conscious of his legs as they trembled slightly. I managed to ignore the cries of pain coming from Fries, instead grasping a chunk of debris and using it to smash at the ice encasing Batman. The combined efforts of the nodules and my frantic efforts dislodged a large section of ice from his chest, freeing one of his arms.

Progress.

I proceeded to pin my fingers in between his torso and its casing, prying off chunks and losing a few more nails in the process. He was visibly shaking, the skin of his face unnaturally pale beneath the ice, but still made efforts to sit up, his exposed arm jamming metal barbs of his gauntlets into the fracturing ice. I found myself holding my own breath as I tried repositioning one of the heating bulbs, hoping to bring oxygen to him sooner.

As the final pieces gave way, he appeared all too calm while I was growing more anxious by the second. Save for bits clinging to his cape and tunic, within a span of mere minutes he was relatively free of the constricting ice.

I let my breath out in a rushed question, "Are you all right?"

"Happens… all the… time," he managed through quivering lips.

"Apparently…" I replied, finally allowing myself to look over at Fries, "What about him?"

"Devices… raising his core… temperature… to disarm," he replied, slightly more steadily as he brought himself to his feet. I wanted to reach out to help him, but he miraculously made it upright with minimal effort.

I was about to remark that he could use a warmer core temperature himself but the howl of sirens was dangerously close to waste time on banter. Instead, I suggested, "Well, that's our cue to leave."

He glared at me, although the pale skin and trembling chin took away from the gaze's intensity, "You're not going anywhere… Fries ended this but… You started it."

"Seriously?" I sighed, adding when he didn't respond, "Fine, have it your way…"

He saw the strike before I dealt it, blocking my roundhouse to his hand and countering with a jab to my side. Even still, there was no power behind it and it was practically effortless to avoid it. I latched on to his arm, twisted it and kneed him in the abdomen roughly before taking off.

I heard his boots and his cape flapping right behind me, surprising given his popsicle like state from only moments earlier. Once in the service area again, I smirked to see he had called his precious vehicle up on auto pilot, parked and waiting with baited breath next to the van. I leapt over both, pushing into handspring off of the latter in order to reach the other side. As I raced up the fire escape of the adjacent wing of the museum, I glanced back to taunt him, asking if I was making his blood boil.

But he wasn't there.

A cursory glance had me jumping back down to the pavement and racing over to the collapsed form that was mere yards away. I heard his stressed, uneven breaths before reaching his side, spotted the cape quivering as it draped over him. My foot was a block ice even after being thawed. He had been hit with ice over sixty percent of his body.

"You should have told me I was playing too rough," I tried to joke, but my voice fell painfully flat.

Given his condition and complete lack of humor, he simply looked up at me with a blank expression. I hadn't noticed in the museum, but the lenses of his cowl had cracked, revealing bloodshot whites circling piercing blue eyes. The pupils were painfully dilated, from both irritation and hypothermia.

"I guess it's pointless to ask if I can take you to a hospital…" I offered, gently placing a hand on his quivering shoulder.

"The car… get… to the car."

"Of course…" I crouched low in order to help push him upright.

Although my mind worked its way back to that November night when he had carried my frozen body through the streets of Gotham, I tired to focus on getting him up and moving. That night, he had fallen, succumbing to his own falling temperature. I had offered to carry him the rest of the way and he had replied, "Next time."

It brought a smirk to my lips for a fraction of a second.

With his considerable weight leaning on me, it seemed just shy of being impossible to help him shuffle to the sleek, black car fifteen feet away. The sirens were deafening, their lights starting to reflect off of the windows of the museum. Somehow, he reached within himself and closed the last few feet on his own, the car door retracting seemingly without command. Much like my own fall from grace earlier, he collapsed into the driver's seat and took far too much focus to position himself behind the wheel.

Running away from the scene at that point was not the safest option give the inbound police force.

As if climbing into the passenger seat of the Batmobile was…

The door sealed shut overhead and as I looked over, he seemed completely oblivious of my presence. His gloved hands gripped the steering wheel as if it was a life preserver, his eyes staring straight ahead with painful focus. Suddenly, the console came to life with dozens of gauges, LCD screens and then a computerized voice listing the squad car numbers that were approaching, the safest route away from them and then finally a verbal warning, "Unauthorized occupant has been detect-."

In a quiet, shaky and barely audible voice, he said, "Override."

I stared at him as the computer accepted his request and proceeded to read off his vitals, watching in shocked silence as he slowly pushed back into the seat, his grip failing, "Your pulse is irregular and averaging at ninety-six beats per minute. Blood pressure is one-forty over ninety, core temperature is ninety-five degrees and falling… Be advised, EKG shows signs of ventricular arrhythmia-."

Before his head bowed to his chest, he whispered, "Auto-Pilot… The Clinic."

^V^

Next: Promises, Promises


	3. Chapter 3: Promises, Promises

Title: Hot Summer's Night: Promises, Promises

Author: DC Luder

Summary: During NML, he saved her from certain death and she thanked him with a concussion and a hasty exit. Eight months later, she's found a way to make amends. Sequel to Cold Winter's Night.

Rating: T for violence and mild adult themes

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: And just like the first story, the final chapter makes it all better. Also, I live in a world where everyone knows and loves Leslie.

^V^

"It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing could go wrong."

John Cheever

^V^

Not many things rattled my nerves.

For instance, I had just faced off with Victor Fries, saved Batman's life and avoided police custody without breaking a sweat. Granted, I had not made it out of the museum with the prize my sights had originally been set on, but save for a frostbitten foot I was no worse for the wear. Despite the brave face I managed to hang onto for the last fifteen minutes, something had finally wiped it off of my face.

Something being the sight of the six-foot-plus vigilante unconscious in the seat beside me.

His hands had fallen from their death grip on the steering wheel the second it shifted to turn out of the service parking lot. Even though Batman was in the driver's seat, the car was operating on its, shifting into drive and rolling down the asphalt. Even though it was an uneasy feeling, being practically trapped in a car that belonged in a spy novel, I was more worried about him than my immediate safety. Over the engine's growl and the scanner's chatter of police calls, the computer was still giving updates and warnings about his vitals.

Along with an estimated arrival time in fourteen minutes and that the vehicle's climate control would be raised to eighty degrees.

After rolling along at fifteen miles an hour, the vehicle suddenly surged forward as we reached the alley's exit onto Remington Avenue, nearly colliding into a trio of police cruisers as they attempted to pull in. I cried out as the car automatically dove to the right, taking to the sidewalk and destroying a bus stop in order to bypass the black and whites. Righting myself in the seat, I caught a glimpse of the dashboard readout clocking us at forty-eight miles per hour, swerving back onto the street and into late evening traffic.

I decided it was worth the effort of buckling up.

The sudden jostle seemed to bring Batman to, causing him to lift his head back up although with far more effort than it should have taken. He looked to me for a moment, then to the police cars that were slamming on their breaks and changing their course to follow after us. His breathing appeared to be slowing, still shallow and seemingly painful. Squinting, he focused on the digital panel between us, keying in a sequence that had the computer announce, "Evasive measures activated."

I remained silent, even though my mind was spinning as fast as the car was barreling down the busy street. It dodged in and out of lanes seamlessly, accelerating and breaking with perfect timing, entirely independent of its out of commission driver. The scanner spat forth calls into dispatch, all four cars claiming to be following a suspect south on Remington. Batman's shaky hand reached out again, and a few finger taps later, a bang sound from the rear of the vehicle, followed by a plume of smoke.

One of the dash's monitors offered a rear view and I watched on as it showed the haze enveloping the cruisers, causing them to swerve and bump into one another. The scanner then announced, "This is car 45-23, suspect is continuing south on Remington towards the Haynes Bridge. Unable to continue pursuit due to a MVA involving-."

He cut off the static ridden scanner with a breathy, "Scanner off." My eyes found their way to his reddened face, my ears barely listening as the computer gave an update on his failing vitals, of which he also interrupted with, "Mute."

Silence save for his failed attempt at breathing and the car shifting gears.

"The Clinic?" I asked softly as the car banked left and drove up the shoulder in order to avoid merging traffic, "In the East End?"

It appeared as if he hadn't heard me, his eyes slowly blinking as he stared straight ahead. The car jerked into the oncoming lane in order to pass a stationary taxi cab, moving back just in time to avoid a head on collision with a bus. As we somewhat safely began crossing the bridge, I spotted the reflection of flashing lights hitting neighboring vehicles. I fought back a breathy curse, but Batman remained unfazed, fighting to maintain consciousness.

The cruisers attempted to follow us down the shoulder, but the car ejected another round of countermeasures. This time, the monitor showed large metal spikes bouncing to the pavement behind us. Rather than blow out tires, the devices were large enough to embed themselves into the undercarriage of the vehicles, sending sparks flying and cars swerving. A few innocent vehicles were also struck, simply adding to the chaos, allowing us to enter the eastern borough with no further interruption.

The car raced on, breaking every traffic law in the book as it forged its way ahead. Heaters blowing, it felt every ounce of eighty degrees, but my skin still tingled with cold dread. Even though Batman had already turned off the computer's notifications, they came back on, trying to urge a response from him. Where they failed, I stepped in.

I roughly pinched the exposed flesh of his right cheek, causing his head to jerk up and his arm to reach out for my wrist. His fingers were clumsy, missing their target and fumbling to recover. A notification that we were eight minutes from our destination sounded as he shakily turned his head to face me, his eyes glassy and irritated.

Eight minutes was far too long to sit and watch him suffer.

"Please don't hit me," I muttered as I undid my seatbelt and moved to kneel in the cramped vehicle. Leaning over, I undid the clasps of his cape, struggling to pull it out from under his limp body. He watched with half-focused eyes as I pushed his tunic up, followed by undoing the body armor plates beneath. His skin was ice, bright red and when I touched it with my finger tips, the white marks stayed behind for far too long. Tossing the armor to the floor on the passenger side, I quickly pulled off his gloves, tugged his arms free of the tunic and left the garment around his neck.

My turn, I mused while peeling my own gloves off.

With a sigh, I slipped out of my cowl and the top half of my costume, a black and gray athletic tank top sparing me from indecency. To make room for my impromptu plan, I bowed over him, reaching for anything resembling seat controls. The car turned sharply to the left without warning and I grabbed onto Batman's right shoulder to keep from falling face first into the steering wheel. Despite his poor state, he reached a hand up and gripped my bare shoulder as well, helping me regain my balance.

Once I was able to move the seat back a few inches, I growled while moving to straddle his lap, "Sit still…. And don't get any ideas."

I exhaled sharply as I pressed my torso to his frigid chest, drawing the cape over my shoulders to help keep any heat contained. Bowing my head, I rested my brow on his collarbone, exhaling warm air onto his skin. With his mouth practically at my ear, his breaths seemed all the more inconsistent and desperate, barely able to move a strand of my hair. Beneath the heavy cape, I drew his arms up and folded them over his abdomen, then started to rub my hands over his chest and shoulders as vigorously as I dared.

"Estimated time of arrival in six minutes," the computer announced.

"Doesn't this thing go any faster?" I asked, moving to set my chin level on his shoulder.

It took him twenty seconds, but he managed to reply quietly, "Not… on a F-f-friday…"

Looping my arms around his shoulders, I pressed myself to him, feeling every frozen inch of his skin quake against me. "Of course, date night… I have to admit, this isn't how I imagined spending my Friday… Not complaining, but you could have taken a girl to dinner first."

"You… s-s-started it," he replied.

I smirked, pressing my cheek to his, "Are you going to finish it?"

At first, I thought he was taking his time to respond again. Then, I felt the full weight of his head fall to my shoulder, hanging limply from his neck. I said his name loudly, pinched the scarred skin of his chest and when both failed to elicit a response, I sat back and pushed his head up. His lids had fallen shut over the bloodshot eyes, not even flinching as my voice rose in volume and fear.

"Estimated time in of arrival in four minutes."

"Oh, shut up," I snapped.

It was literally the longest four minutes of my life. I slapped, yelled, clawed and shook but nothing brought him back. The computer even detected his deterioration, causing the chair to vibrate and for the lights to come on brightly in the vehicle. I squinted until my eyes adjusted, staring at his half-covered face for any sign of life, finding only the same faint breaths escaping his lips.

With my attention solely on Batman, I failed to notice all too familiar surroundings as the car increased its speed on the vacant streets of the East End. Rebuilding Gotham had made the infamous borough look new, but it hadn't been able to rid it of old habits. The crime was still unbearable, the poverty even worse and the violence unmatched in any other borough.

The Free Clinic. It saw more out patients than Mercy General's emergency room in any given week. Those without insurance, those in trouble with the law, those that simply needed help were welcome. Leslie Thompkins and a good portion of her staff had stayed during No Man's Land, acting as a MASH unit and doing whatever was possible to heal the wounded and help the troubled. She held the Hippocratic Oath to heart. If the rumor that she treated Victor Zsasz during Gotham's lapse from society was true, then she was the living definition of it.

She treated the good guys and bad, both with masks and without.

I looked out of the driver's side window just as the car took its final turn, pulling into the small lot that was behind the Free Clinic. As it had since leaving the museum, it didn't hesitate in maneuvering around parked vehicles and claiming a spot of its own. I spotted the back door of the building opening, urging me to sit upright and pull my top back up. As the computer announced our arrival, it unlocked the door, letting in muggy, night air.

The green scrub clad figure of Dr. Leslie Thompkins was approaching quickly, pulling a gurney behind her. Glasses resting on top of her frazzled gray hair, she did a double take of me getting out of the vehicle before saying, "Are you injured, as well?"

Without hesitating, I replied, "No… more like the reason he is."

We had endured several encounters over the years, mostly from my early career. I donated heavily to her cause, donating blood every chance I could and sending checks religiously. Although she had never passed judgment on me, I always had a need to do good in her eyes. I rarely cared for what others thought of me, but a ghetto clinic doctor had me wanting to be a better person, leading by example.

As she positioned and locked the wheels of the gurney beside the car, I rambled over what had taken place only fifteen minutes earlier. I tried to remember the last vitals the computer had read off and then explained what I had done on the ride over to help warm him up. Without thinking, I reiterated what little he had said, noting he had a difficult time focusing and keeping his head up but had been able to return banter, even it was with in a stammer. She listened quietly, afterward asking how long he had been unconscious and for me to help her move him.

His dead weight was only a fraction easier to lift with Leslie's help. The second we had him out of the car, the door sealed shut and it sped off without warning. Although I was caught off guard, Leslie didn't bother to so much as look back, optioning to begin pushing the gurney towards the ramp. I reached her within two strides and went ahead to prop open the door, eager to help in any way I could.

"I'll take him into the exam room there," she noted calmly. I pushed that door open as well, watching as she pivoted the gurney and urged it into the small room. When I tried to follow her in, she paused and looked up at me, "I'll need you to wait out here, Selina."

"I can help…"

She shook her head and offered a warm smile, "Just for a few minutes… He'll be fine. I promise."

I forced myself to nod as she pushed him in the rest of the way and shut the door behind her.

After five minutes of standing alone in the corridor, I tested the handle, finding it unlocked. I could have barged in, but was unable to summon the nerve. Instead, I pressed my ear to the door and held my breath. The cardiogram was audible, beeping and blipping, as was her soft voice. The words were indecipherable but also reassuring. I recalled a time or two waking up in a bed under her watchful gaze, in pain but feeling safe.

Given the scars on his body, no doubt he had a few similar experiences.

Another fifteen minutes passed, leaving me to pace up and down the corridor, trying not to think about the blood shot, blue eyes I had stared into earlier. Even that night during No Man's Land, I had relied on my sense of touch, never catching a glimpse of his bare face in the darkness. Having spent years staring into white lenses, it felt strange to know what had been hidden underneath.

When I passed by the exam room door for the one hundredth time, I was surprised as it withdrew to reveal Leslie once more. "His temperature is hovering around ninety-four and a half right now, no doubt it would have dipped even lower if you hadn't done anything."

I tried to focus on her face instead to the figure on the gurney behind her as I asked, "Is he okay?"

"Come see for yourself," Leslie stepped back and motioned for me to enter.

I couldn't have contained the sigh of relief even if I had tried.

"Central line is pushing warm fluids and anti-inflammatories," she started out as I slowly approached him, "His vitals are starting to level out, temp should be coming up shortly…"

I paused beside the bed, looking him over from head to toe. His entire body was buried beneath thermal blankets, the electric wires of vital monitoring equipment and heating pads sneaking from underneath to find their outlets. Only his head was visible, the top half wrapped in clean white gauze.

"His eyes will be fine with rest… I flushed them and stained them before putting the mummy garb on… no signs of ulceration." When I remained silent, she added, "I'll be keeping him overnight for observation… sedated so he isn't able to act on some foolish notion of going back out there."

I glanced at her, relief leaving me unable to make my lips form words. I wanted to ask how long he would be out, when he'd be back on his feet and if I was allowed to wait until he was. I was almost relieved that I didn't utter words, not wanting to come across as desperate or frightened.

Leslie broke the silence, "I've been mending his body for years… some day I might even mend that thick skull of his… Don't you worry, he'll be back to his grumpy old self in a few hours."

Finally, I asked, "Can I stay?"

A frown took the life from her face as she shook her head, "I'm sorry… he never really defined what it is between you two… It's not that I don't trust you, I just know that he doesn't trust anyone."

Looking back to his still face, I nodded slowly.

Leslie then cleared her throat, "I am going to go get some more blankets for him… Probably be about five minutes or so." When I glanced back up at her, she offered a small smirk and then stepped out into the corridor, shutting the door behind her. She genuinely wanted the best for everyone.

Closing the small gap between myself and the gurney, I set my hands on the cold steel guard rails and spent a full minute watching his chest rise and fall, shallow breaths but they came regularly. Under the brighter lighting, I noted the skin of his jaw was a healthier color, lightly shaded with stubble. His lips weren't blue, but a light pink, just starting to chap.

Another minute of standing motionless left my frozen foot throbbing. With no chairs in the room, it left either the counter or the gurney. He was sedated and no doubt exhausted, making the risk significantly less as I picked his right arm up from under the covers, moving it so that I could sit beside him. Gently taking his limp hand into mine, I began rubbing my thumb over bruised knuckles, "I promise I won't bite."

He inhaled more deeply and I had to fight back a smirk.

My eyes had a hard time picking a focal point. Looking at his head, they drifted back and forth from the bandages to his chin to his lips and then back to where his eyes were buried. The material covered what the cowl had, but I could make out the bottom of his ears and most of his nose. Looking closely, I spotted a faint razor burn on his jaw line and a freckle on the side of his neck. He was human, after all.

Finally, I let my gaze settle back on his chest, watching it rise and fall, in and out, up and down, inhale and exhale. The shivering had all but stopped, leaving only cold, clammy skin. Slowly, I leaned over him, keeping his hand mine on my lap as I put my weight on the other. I positioned my face inches above his, happy to feel warm air on my cheeks. Quietly, I spoke to his unconscious form, "So this is what it was like, watching me sleep that night…"

Nothing, just steady breathing and the blips on the monitors.

"Well, if you're up to it later, I'd be more than happy to accept any grateful gestures you have to offer… obviously, for me saving your life. I'll be home, just knock."

Without hesitating, I moved in, gently pressing my lips to his.

I sat upright, gave his hand a final squeeze and then silently slipped off of the mattress and back to the floor. With thirty seconds to spare, I made it to the back entrance of the Free Clinic and out the door.

Given the night's tragic turn, I had been unable to obtain all of my tracers from the museum, leaving only with a near empty backpack that I had accidentally left in Batman's car. They weren't directly linked back to me, but it always left an uneasy feeling when I didn't make a clean exit. Gotham's forensic technicians were probably already crawling over every inch of the scene, the poor guards either clueless as to what really happened or leery of admitting to losing to a cat thief and a mad scientist.

Basically, all I had was one last bolo and my cat-o-nine tails. That and a six mile trek home on foot.

Thankfully, the muggy heat of the day had yielded to a slightly cooler evening. I took my time, letting my mid wander as I took the long way home. I climbed fire escapes, made a few rooftop transfers and even took a few bold jumps that reminded me my right foot would need to be elevated for a good day or so. I kept replaying the best and worst of the evening over and over again, still unable to rate it as a success or failure.

I made it home in a little under two hours, entering the penthouse through the terrace doors. Instantly, I was greeted with furry, meowing faces that were happy to see me so early in the evening. Pulling back the cowl, I smiled down at the small pride at my feet, "Yes, Momma's home. Empty-handed, but she's home."

First order of business, I fed the crew in the kitchen before making my way to the bedroom. While shedding my guise, I listened to the news on the television, watching the aftermath of my night out on the town. Reporters listed that Fries was in Arkham's medical ward, the guards were all injured but not hospitalized and save for the physical damage to the museum, nothing appeared to be missing. Amateur footage played of the police cars chasing after the Batmobile on the bridge, the commentary revolving around a possible accomplice that escaped.

Morons.

Leaving it on, I strode into the attached bathroom and tuned the shower into a steamy, aquatic heaven. Disrobing entirely, I stepped in, happy to have the hot water wash over me after the night's events. I let the water blast down on the dome of my head, imagining that it was washing everything away. Losing the necklace and nearly losing my foot.

Saving Batman. Those icy blue eyes. Parched lips. That freckle.

After twenty minutes, my skin was pink and clean. I cut the water off, wrung out my hair and then stepped onto the bath mat. After donning a white towel around my head and wrapping a matching one around my torso, I stepped back into the bedroom to find the news had given way to late night talk shows. I grabbed the remote from the night stand and clicked it off, the colorful screen going black.

And also revealing a very familiar reflection.

"I thought I told you to knock?" I tried to put a growl in my tone as I turned to greet my guest.

Batman stood in the open doorway of my bedroom, having traded IVs, thermal blankets and bandages for his suit. He must have picked up a spare cowl on his way, as the lenses were back to their milky nothingness. Two hours earlier, he had been hypothermic and heavily sedated and yet there he was, good as new. In fact, there wasn't an ounce of visible evidence that he had endured any bad luck that night.

I found myself smirking as I approached him, pausing to stand mere feet in front of him. In his full garb, Batman loomed over top of me, but I didn't feel the slightest bit intimidated. If anything, the way his jaw was clenched, he appeared to be more wary of me.

"Come here to thank me?" I asked.

"In a way," he exhaled slowly before his arm slipped out from under the cape, offering my bag. As I reached for it, he added, "GPD Forensics found two tracers on the guards. I'll make sure they lose them."

The bag felt lighter and less bulky than it should have but much as I wanted to check the bag's contents, I chose the more polite route and imply tossed it on the end of the bed. Smirking up at him, I replied, "I guess I should be thanking you, now."

His lips pursed before he said, "No thank you necessary."

"Come on…" I reached up and pulled the towel from my head, my hair falling in wet curls, "It could be fun…"

Without missing a beat, he responded, "As I recall, head trauma does not fall under the category of fun."

"And hypothermia on a hot summer's night does?" I countered, not even bothering to hold back my teasing smile.

The fraction of a second he hesitated spoke volumes. And then, completely unexpected, he said, "That night we…"

"I know," I cut him off, suddenly not wanting the memories of his lips on mine, his hands on my hips. I had been drifting back to them all evening, eager to relive it, even if only in my mind. Suddenly, I wanted to do anything but. Brow lowering, I admitted out loud, "A momentary lapse into weakness. A one time deal. A mistake."

I wanted him to tell me I was wrong, but he didn't. Instead, his jaw clenched again, although not because of my harsh words. In the utter silence of my bedroom and standing so close to him, I heard a soft sound. Faint sirens, clicks and fast talking voices of a police scanner, barely audible over the tension between us.

The playful mood from a moment earlier all but gone, I turned to the bed and put my back to him, "Looks like your night's just getting started."

"Selina…" I heard his voice soften but it didn't lure me to face him again.

I began looking through the bag, only offering him, "Go on, stud, you can make it up to me some other time."

After a moment of silence, I glanced over my shoulder, not surprised in the least to find him already gone. I wanted to be angry, nearly convinced myself that I should have been, especially as I looked through my bag. The reason it seemed off was that my dress from the gala was missing. In its place, however, was a receipt for the dry cleaning service that I used three blocks away.

It was open until midnight, offered same day service and kept pricier garments under lock and key. The place probably had more reliable security than the Museum of Natural History. On the service slip, the gown's description was listed as were the received and pick up times. The fee section listed a two hundred dollar security deposit and the sixty dollar cleaning fee, both marked paid.

On the back, there was a note penned in block lettering.

**Consider us even. Next time, I'll use the handcuffs. B**

"You better," I whispered with a smile on my lips, "You better."

^V^


End file.
